


Exceptions

by addesin



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alludes to Past Abuse, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addesin/pseuds/addesin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Andrew, for all his efforts, was not heartless. Some would argue that, some might say “any more”, but Neil was had figured out long ago that he never was.</i>
</p><p>In which Andrew bends his own rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptions

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr originally but I decided to put it up on ao3 for the hell of it (one part keeping my fanfic all in one place, on part hoping I can get serious critique on this). Mostly just musings and nothing much happens but I hope you like it. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you can tell me what you think. 
> 
> You can check out my tumblr [here](http://addesin.tumblr.com/) if you like.

Neil had quickly learned not to ask for intimacy. It was one of the first things he’d picked up when _this_ (the ‘this’ that wasn’t a ‘this’, according to Andrew, but they were working on it) started. Neil would let Andrew know what he wanted, allude to it some way or another, offer himself up, but he never asked. Not for kisses or touches or anything more than that. Andrew was almost as quick to shut down a request as he was a command, unless given sufficient incentive. He worked in promises and bargains and deals only. Andrew might have accepted Neil, might have accepted that he wanted Neil, but he was still Andrew Minyard and he still did only what he wanted.

Still, there were always exceptions to every rule. Andrew wouldn’t go back on himself once he’d put up his walls, but if he saw fit, he’d work something out, in his own callous way. Andrew, for all his efforts, was not heartless. Some would argue that, some might say “any more”, but Neil was had figured out long ago that he never was. It was just a matter of if he saw Neil as worth it in that given moment. If only he would guard the goal like he guarded himself, Neil sometimes thought wistfully.

“Worth it” to Andrew came in two packages: One, Andrew’s libido won out against his general boredom and distaste for Neil’s antics. Or two, that weird thing in the pit of his gut reacted to Neil’s utter helplessness and it wouldn’t shut the fuck up until Andrew made it right. Andrew pretended he couldn’t feel it, feel anything, but Neil wasn’t an idiot. Andrew said he didn’t care, that he hated Neil, that he was useless, and nothing but a half-suicidal Exy junkie, but when it came down to it, Andrew’s protective nature was fierce and tumultuous, as much as he despised it. He wouldn’t _admit_ that he cared, but it had gotten to the point that he couldn’t _stop_ either.

There had been nights in the dorms, not long after Aaron and Neil switched rooms, that Neil would share Andrew’s bed, if only because he’d worked himself so ragged at practice he couldn’t climb the ladder to the top bunk above him. After Andrew had gotten used to another weight in the bed, one that wouldn’t bind him and break him and tell him to _like it_ , this sort of thing became common, almost second nature. Nicky and Kevin didn’t question it or raise issue because the pair barely even touched even on the twin-sized mattress, let alone imposed their relationship on the other two boys in the same room (Neil wasn’t entirely sure Nicky would be opposed but he thought he was better off not knowing the cousin’s opinion on the matter). Anything more than arms touching or being back-to-back would have Andrew pulling Neil onto the carpet by his hair, possibly out of the room all-together.

Neil didn’t take it personally, and Andrew never intended it that way, and they both knew that, so it worked.

But there were rare nights, nights Neil liked to pretend never happened when he would seize awake from a nightmare, often a mix of being burned and bound and punished for his very existence. He was lucky if he only half sat up, caused Andrew to jolt up with him and yank him back into the mattress by his throat in annoyance, but sometimes the dreams where enough to yank a short scream out of him that he would cut off as soon as he woke, his fists swinging to fend off the half-familiar faces of all the men and women who had wronged him.

Andrew was up and alert each time but never complained, never said a word much past, “shut the fuck up,” or, “go back to sleep before I kill you,” as he seized Neil by his flailing wrists and wrestled him back into the bed. Neil always waited for Andrew to tell him not to sleep in his bed anymore, but every subsequent night, Andrew would look at him expectantly, waiting for him to take the inner wall side of the bed like he couldn’t do anything with the damn thing until Neil was settled down in there.

Neil had grown used to rarely getting much of substance out of Andrew after their game of secrets had run its course, so he didn’t ask, just obeyed wordlessly almost every night, save those that Andrew turned in before Neil. He wasn’t sure if he was welcomed those nights or not, but he wouldn’t risk climbing over Andrew to reach the inside of the bed and lose every inch of trust he’d fought tooth and nail for from Andrew. That was a boundary Neil had imposed on himself and would never break.

Still, those nightmare-fueled nights were some of Neil’s worst. He’d never divulge to any of the other Foxes they occurred, denied them around Nicky and Kevin, wouldn’t even acknowledge their existence around Andrew in the light of day, but he couldn’t hide the cold sweat that dampened the bed or his ragged pants in the dead of night with no one but Andrew to calm him (the day he realized there was times when Andrew had to be the level head between them was the day Neil finally realized just how fucked he really was, though he was trying to get better). His nightmares made him weak, made him clumsy. They were few and far between, saved for their worst losses and Neil’s most stress-induced days, but they made Neil foolish.

Maybe they made Andrew lax. He didn’t believe in pity, not really, but something inside that mysterious head kept Andrew from becoming a Class 1 asshole whenever Neil woke him with one of his terrors, like everything inside Neil told him he _should_ have.

Once, Neil didn’t get himself entirely worked up before he woke, but that must have been only because he was so frozen in his fear as the Butcher sat on his chest and threatened him with an impossibly sharp blade, Neil had thought he might piss himself. He gasped himself awake, like he’d just received a shot of epinephrine and the stabbing shock of a defibrillator straight to his chest. Neil sucked in breaths fast and shallow, not enough to calm him down, but enough to tell him he was still alive, he had survived.

The Butcher was dead, but Neil was not.

Neil felt the sobs of relief and horror coming upon him before he could stop them. Neil couldn’t call it crying. He wasn’t even sure he could cry anymore, not really. He didn’t produce tears, but his body wracked with tremors and his face contorted so if it wasn’t crying, it was something close. He rolled on his side, back to the cold wall that trapped him in with Andrew, and tried to look at the man beside him in the dark.

Nightmares made Neil foolish.

Andrew’s eyes had shot open at Neil’s start, but if Neil wasn’t swinging wildly at the air, Andrew wouldn’t fight him. Slowly, he was adapting to Neil’s presence beside him.

“Andew.” Neil felt himself begging before he could stop himself. He was being clumsy. Stupid. Andrew would definitely call this stupid. “C-can I.” Neil couldn’t exactly call it a question. The more he made it seem like a plea, the quicker Andrew would shut him out.

It didn’t matter. When Neil reached for him, slow enough to allow rejection, Andrew brought his knees up into Neil’s gut, causing him to wheeze. “Don’t,” he said, shoving Neil’s hands back to himself. He didn’t like to be touched. Neil knew that. Not once had any of these attempts had been successful, even if they were rare. Andrew knew he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need it. The rejection still burned, though.

Andrew had rolled over to show Neil his back, as trusting as it was damning, and Neil squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stop his tremors with sheer force of will alone. He didn’t like weakness, even in front of Andrew. Especially in front of Andrew. He hated feeling like the ghosts of his past – his dead father, or Lola, or Riko – could still get to him. Sometimes, Neil wished he could shut everything off like Andrew. In the daylight, sometimes he could. But here in the dark room, with only Kevin and Nicky’s snoring and Andrew’s unresponsive back to act his part for, Neil couldn’t find it worth it to hold it together.

Pleas never worked, but something wore away at Andrew until he abruptly flopped back over, shoving Neil’s shoulders with the harsh command of, “Roll over.” Neil was sure for a moment that he had annoyed Andrew enough that he didn’t even want Neil’s breath on the back of his neck, until the moment when, smashed up against the cold wall, Andrew wrapped his arm around Neil, mashing his mouth against Neil’s shoulder.

Andrew hadn’t offered him enough time between forcing him over and closing the space between him for Neil not to be trapped into immobility but it was more than Neil thought he had ever gotten from the other man. All that mattered was it felt safe. Protected. Neil couldn’t help remember a childhood with his mother, sandwiched between here and a wall as she guarded him from their pursuers in her sleep. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but it wasn’t uncomfortable either, so Neil didn’t try to adjust himself. Didn’t let himself hold Andrew back, either, knowing it was not part of the deal.

Andrew offered no words of explanation or comfort, and Neil didn’t dare ask. He let Andrew bend his own rules to give Neil what he needed but Andrew was too damaged to offer. This, though not what he’d expected when he had reached for Andrew in the dark, was more than enough. In the morning, neither of them would discuss it and the rules would reset for a new day, but for now, Neil’s shivers would quell and they could fall back asleep before morning practice.


End file.
